IAsami Series: The Crack
by justdi
Summary: The Crack- I/Asami Series Pairing/Characters: Asami, Akihito Genre: Romance Rating: NC17 for a little bit of sex Summary: Asami spies on Akihito's bathroom ritual while waiting for an answer to his question. All done in Asami's POV...where the "I" is Asami. Thanks to princessoftor for the beta! You're awesome!


Pairing/Characters: Asami, Akihito  
Genre: Romance  
Rating: NC17 for a little bit of sex  
Summary: Asami makes a request. Akihito still hasn't answered. Will Asami like the answer?  
Thanks to princessoftor for the beta! You're awesome!

AN: This came about because it was really hot in California (USA). and I was thinking cold thoughts. I started thinking about winter and also about bathroom privacy. When you're in a new relationship you close the bathroom door, when you've been together awhile the bathroom door stays open sometimes. When you have kids you might as well have no door until they reach pre-puberty. After that, they don't want to know what you are doing in the bathroom.

**The Crack**

_"__The cradle rocks above an abyss, and common sense tells us that our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness." ~ Vladimir Nabokov_

I (as in Asami Ryuuichi, ultra-crime lord) pop a sleep encrusted eye open as I feel the bed jostle. The sheets tug against my waist and brush against my sensitive cock. I try not to groan.

My heat-pad, the adorable (sometimes) Akihito slides off those sheets with an odd zip-like noise and tiptoes cat-like into the bathroom, snapping on the light as silently as possible and then pausing, letting his eyes adjust. It takes him a moment and he surprises himself in the mirror, his body wincing as if the tile bit him.

My expensive tile probably feels icy on a winter's night like this. It reminds me of another night I cornered him in a Christmas tree lot glittering with fake lights. Through winter's magic he warmed his frozen tongue with my mouth. He had breathed something like_ not here _which I come to understand as _let's go somewhere else_. It was not a _yes or no _but a requested shift in venue.

We went to my condo.

We had resumed kissing in the _limo/elevator/two steps inside_, our gloves and scarves tossed like confetti on the furniture soon after that. The couch smelled of wet wool and mildew with our unwanted clothing dripping from the melted snow combined with our sweat. The decorated couch welcomed us.

I thought he was mine then.

I close my eyes as the bathroom light stings my eyes. My bed's starting to turn cold against my overheated skin.

I hear him mutter something about _being posh_, probably in reference to the elegant gleaming marble that looks like a map of the Sahara. He feet shift like a bouncing rabbit on the chilly floor. It must sting his tender feet.

With an uneven nail, he's admiring the gold line that makes a river through the cold stone that dead-ends suddenly. His finger stops at the side of the counter and wavers there before disappearing into a rolled shaking fist.

He sniffs and examines a bluish raised mark with a light brush of his fingers before pushing at the heavy door. It halts suddenly, caught on the (formerly) white rug shoved into the wrong spot. He stubs his toe in his attempt to free the naughty rug.

With one hand on his toe, he hops like the bunny he is, stifling a scream with the other hand. It is comical in a silent movie type of way, where everything seems overplayed and over dramatized for the slow viewers of the group.

I cringe at his demise and smirk at the same time (it looks like a shudder) as his attention turns to me and my silent voyeur. I lick my lips unconsciously feeling mad with power, the taste of sweat still stings my upper lip and I want to suck his toe until his pain turns to delight. I want to hear his whimpers of joy underneath me.

I want his everything, until we both turn to ash.

He glances at my sheet-covered body and I play dead. The sheet feels like wet canvas against my cock. His lids blink rapidly in confusion. I don't sleep deep which I'm sure he knows, but we did enjoy ourselves to the _point of exhaustion_, so perhaps he's as groggy as my foggy brain tells me. I use my incredible acting skills yet continue to watch him through narrowed slits colored pink through translucent skin. By some miracle, Akihito assumes with a faint shrug that his beautiful lover (AKA me) remained in dreamland.

When I risk peeking again, he's examining his toe with a balanced foot suspended in space. His ass rounds and my hand make an unconscious gesture, molding it to that ass before sliding forward to tickle his balls. I tell my hand to behave and like Akihito, it ignores my request.

His rebelliousness is catching.

With an odd slap, his foot falls as he leans and loses his balance, using his arm to steady himself. The arm moves as if asleep. He's massaging a spot on his shoulder that looks red and swollen. I count at least five love bites covering his back before I lose track and they disappear under his tight boy shorts, making a child's dot-to-dot pattern that probably spells _PERVERT _in big script. The gray fabric caresses his round ass lovingly and suddenly I hate Jockey brand underwear that shamelessly offers comfort, fit and modesty at an affordable price. I want to rip it off and stuff it in his mouth.

I can afford more.

Watching in fascination as he continues to examine the marks on his neck and ever lower on his chest and stomach I see him blush, remembering me loving him without mercy last night. I had drowned his screams of stop with my kisses, replacing them with cries of '_more' _and '_there' _and a litany of Asami incantations.

I feel no shame in peering at him while his mind wanders. He shudders for a moment and I wonder why he hesitates to use the toilet. I wonder if he's telling himself to leave. He pinches his lips nervously and swallows, scratching his ass with an overgrown fingernail.

I smirk at his lack of decorum.

The same fingernail stops to examine my jacket hanging like sentry, guarding my valet. His fingers caress the black sleeve that's ripe with our mingled cologne, our sex and his orgasmic leavings. He brings the sleeve to his nose and inhales. His eyes roll closed and he exhales with a quiver.

My crotch tingles and my cock fills instantly. The sheets shift.

His zealous eyes open again and flick my way. My breathing remains deep and even as he satisfies himself that I appear asleep (so I must be asleep) and not snooping on his worship of my suit and our scent. My cock flinches. I stifle a groan as it rubs against the softest sheets that Akihito's money could buy (cheap), an early Christmas present as I seem to run out of sheets regularly...oddly enough.

The sleeve drops, the color blossoms on his cheek and he covers his bare chest a shivering arm, groaning from the ache in his backside that must send his nerve endings on fire.

I long to sooth those aching muscles with my tongue.

He leans over with a muttered groan, noisily adjusting the shampoo (lube) bottles out of view. I think I hear him mumble a curse word that echoes louder than he intended as an empty bottle thuds with a loud reverberated clatter and bounces around.

I groan and turn over and settle back to sleep dramatically, admiring my new view of his butt in the mirror, still bent over, wiggling his hips as he sets to his task of righting the wronged bottles.

My cock and the sheets have other ideas other than behaving while I adjust. Twisted around my balls, the fabric performs a little dance, further exciting my already excited body. I twitch and groan but he's making so much noise, he ignores me.

He scoffs with annoyance as another decanter of sin tumbles over and sounds like a bouncing basketball lost by a fumbling child in the neighborhood recreation center.

_Loud_.

It sounds like sex when he groans unconsciously, but he finally checks the door crack and scans the bed for signs of life. I sleepily mumble something about f_ive more minutes kitten _and chew on Akihito's pillow in my show of dominance.

I can hear him blushing now. It sounds like sighing.

I make a mental note to remind Kirishima to buy satin sheets and lots and lots of lube.

Akihito (the bathroom organizer) obviously can't see well without a viewfinder in front of him and bends over in a sort-of yoga position, flashing me the goods. His butt makes a perfect heart and the bruises from my hands paint a bluish tinged angel's wings across his hips.

_"Don't be so rough, Asami."_

"Don't speak of the cage again…ever."

"I don't understand. Why does it….why does the cage make you angry?"

I shoved him into the shower last night and silenced his questions with my mouth and tongue. His moans became breathless, his eyes still questioning as he descended and engulfed my cock with his ravenous mouth.

_"I would never cage a wildcat. Not like him."_

_Not like Feilong_. I can never seem to say his name out loud. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

He had stopped blowing me for a moment, my cock flopping out of his mouth. He looked confused.

_"I'm not a cat, Asami. I'm just a man."_

"Do you see bars here….little man? Nor will you…ever." I said as he stroked me with practiced fingers. I tried to control the ravenous dog inside me, but instead I took my lust out on his hair, then his mouth, then his everything.

His eyes had worshiped me last night. His tongue joined the litany and I took him repeatedly, our bodies resting together and rejoining without comment or fear of rejection.

That was last night.

I hear the unmistakable sound of plastic meeting tile followed by curse words. I'm sure he's making noise just to wake me so he can say goodbye to my face.

Just to see me break, just for an instant, before I remember I am Asami Ryuuichi.

_"Make a choice. Leave…and don't come back…or commit to me."_

His eyes heavy with tears he had looked at me with what I hoped was acceptance. Instead, they spoke of fear.

_"How can we? How can we be together?"_

"I don't know, but I will make the effort. I hope you will do the same."

He sobbed against me then, melting his body into my skin like he wished I could absorb him. I hoped he grasped what I whispered in his ear after that, my eyes closed as the warm water turned to ice.

_"You will stay tonight. And every night after that."_

"I….don't…."

His silence dragged on and I enclosed his lips with mine. I completed the sentence in my head with _…want to leave you again….ever_. But that wasn't what he was thinking…probably.

I wonder what he's thinking now.

I'm certain the bottles of shampoo and scented soaps still litter the floor. I'm certain the scent of our lovemaking still lingers in the room. I'm certain he's debating what I said last night. I'm certain what I said still echoes faintly in the room like ripples in a pond of still water because my words tend to last in his ears.

I know he's repeating them in his head.

He leans back as his hips rotate, an over dramatic arch thrusts his butt out. I long to bite that little mound poking through his shorts. Two fingertips brush over his cock and it grows. He inhales with a loud sniff.

My cock flinches and my lips find their voice. I inhale and exhale loudly combined with a slight grunt, courtesy of the sheet/cock battle.

"You didn't finish your sentence. Not that I'm suprised." I say as quietly as I can. I expected him to jump and injure himself, but he's seldom surprised by my ninja-like skills. I'm not surprised when he glares at me like a raccoon-dog caught in headlights, though. "You're holding back."

He adjusts his cock through those damned Jockey brand boy shorts and I pull my cock from the prison of the sheets while he mulls over how best to break my heart.

"That wasn't what I expected you to say." He replies, his lips droop open and he licks his lips.

"Have you thought on it, then?" I ask. I didn't see his eyes when I asked him to stay last night. I can't see his eyes now, but his shoulders shake and he hugs himself, making his arms disappear behind him.

His eyes stop moving as he thinks hard, his gaze resting on a sliver of moon framed by two white panes of glass. His blond hair flops when he turns to me, his eyes shining like the moon; hovering, waiting for someone to breathe first.

He breaks the tension with a slow, practiced breath. His breath sounds like shattering glass. "What were you thinking…when I met your eyes that night on the roof?"

I think a moment before deciding to play idiot. "I can't recall."

He knows I'm lying, my lips are moving. "I haven't seen that look again." He says with a practiced flinch. His eyes pinch together a moment before he clutches his back in support.

"It surprised me when you jumped." I reply finally.

"You smiled at me." He says. He exits the bathroom, leaving the tile and warming his feet on colder wood. "That surprised me."

I recall that night easily, my memory vivid like a camera capturing as much detail as possible. I recall after our fated meeting hastily dismissing my puzzled staff. I sat in my lair (my office) pouring cocktails (whisky) while I poured over Akihito's file (mostly his photo) like an evil scientist hatching a plan. I recall masturbating in the shower, office and bedroom, trying to get that sexy face out of my head. And, while Suoh apologized about losing a brat while licking my shoe, I recalled a quote about _keeping your enemies closer than your friends..._something like that.

I wondered to my shoe-licker Suoh how close I could make The Brat. We joked about it. We hatched a plan.

I didn't plan on falling for him. I didn't plan on digging my own abyss.

"What were you smiling at?" He asks finally. His eyes freeze with mine. He remains as strong today as that day, despite Yuri, Feilong and the rest of the world taking their aim against us. I recall his leap of faith and his rebellious tongue made my lips curl unnaturally.

I answer truthfully, my pupils locked with his. "You."

"Then….why did you…treat me like that the first time… no….never mind don't answer it." He's still observing me warily, his breathing ragged. His pupils shift slightly to the right, the moon shining in his liquid eyes.

I wonder if he's expecting an answer.

"If I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn't have used the aphrodisiac." I explain coldly.

_And I'd be talking to a ghost murdered by a crooked cop._ I wanted to add. _That was the plan._

"Oh." He says, his fists curling. He looks like a disgraced Ronin ready to shove a knife in his gut. "Well…it still hurt." He admits finally. I wonder how much bravery he has left as he starts to shake.

And yet I don't apologize. Apologizing meant regret. I don't regret us. "Yes, I'm sure it did." I say commandingly while I gather my thoughts a moment. I clear my throat as the bulge in his shorts gets bigger. In response to what—I don't know.

"It can't be helped. It will always hurt the first time."

"Then…you could have been a little…"

"No…not you, anyone but you." I say in warning. I feel my eyes grow hard, but why I'm suddenly angry I don't know. "It can't be helped."

He pinches his lower lip together. My cock shoves against the sheets, announcing its presence like an orchestra leader commanding for silence. I think that's the last comment on the subject as he shrugs with a finality that sounds like an echo.

Maybe he's forgiven me. Maybe not. I really don't care.

"Well, the answer is….I'm still here." His head droops. "So…"

"Yes, you are." I say. "And I'm enjoying my bed feeling less empty."

He answers with an unsure gleam in his eye and that infrequent Takaba smile that usually renders me blind for a moment before I remember I am Asami Ryuuichi. "I'm glad."

Here's a little tidbit about me…I love his smile. It makes my loins ache.

I don't know what I did to deserve his adoration. His hand curls around my cock and I thrust into it, kissing him deeply and madly. He's sucking in my tongue. It's all completely feral and erotic with heavy breathing and winded moaning and Jockey brand boy shorts thrown under the chair.

I sigh loudly against his chest and he pauses, grinding against me and trapping my cock underneath his warmth. My cock is crying. He's gyrating and writhing and I can't stop the fluid of emotions leaving my mouth.

"All the remaining nights." I say.

"One at a time."

I know his ass feels sore (understatement), but I take him again anyway. I take him hard until he cries into my chest and promises not to (insert made up infringement here). Then, I sooth his sore back with a warm, gentle touch. His skin quivers underneath my hand. My fingers dance across the river of semen coating his quivering stomach. I roll my fingers into his. He clutches them weakly.

White ribbons of our seed drench the cheap sheets as Akihito makes a face in an attempt to camouflage his limp with a twist of his hips, tearing my hand away. "You planned it." He says untrustingly. "I'm so sore." His face melts into a frown as he rescues his phone from his shorts and mutters apologies to this very important client that I already know all about.

"I didn't." I respond. I usually smoke when I'm lying so I grab a smoke. He knows I'm lying because my grin broadens. The cigarette almost falls out of my mouth.

"I can barely walk." He whines.

"I apologize." I say unfeelingly since I'm not sorry at all.

He's cancelling the meeting with a perverted crooked cop by claiming a sudden family emergency. He bows to the man though the phone. The man erupts into angry tirades and Akihito cringes comically, holding the phone an arm distance away. He looks like an anime character complete with a sweat drop of embarrassment.

The cop hangs up so loud I cringe. It sounds like an old-fashioned phone slamming into an old-fashioned cradle although I know the man carries a cell phone with a battery the size of a shoe. (A man's shoe).

My smirk builds until I feel my face stretch into unfamiliar yet familiar territory, tightening my skin.

"What's that grin for?" He asks slowly. He appears frustrated and relieved at the same time. "You wanted me to cancel, didn't you?" He eyes the bed and I pat the sheets. He eyes me with disdain.

"The thought never occurred to me." The smoke rises, caressing the painting above me. "But I'm sure the cop appreciates living another day. That is, if I continue to feel genenrous."

"I should be scared when you say that, but for some reason, I'm not. I'm intrigued." His eyes sparkle with delight and I have a moment of déjà vu.

"Oh no…you're not." I say in a comical yet serious way. "He'd just feel you up. You wouldn't want that."

He tosses the phone aside. "Mmmm. I don't know, he might be good." He says in an amusing way. He's kidding, of course. "I kind of go for a man in uniform." Even though he's kidding, he still blushes.

I grin like that night on the roof. "You are mine." I say, just to see his blush deepen.

I'm instantly rewarded.

"So you keep saying." His eyes widen, his lips curl and with a snort he dances towards the bathroom, not quite limping, not quite walking normally for a man/boy. His red ass makes a perfect canvas for his shiny crack as he pushes the bathroom door open, slamming it with a flick of his foot.

"Leave it open." I order. When he grimaces I say, "the rug is stuck underneath. It's not going anywhere." He gives me the finger.

I listen for the tell-tale sounds of piss and vinegar. His piss and his vinegared words, mostly along the lines of how I'm a _bastard_. I've added to the love bite map as he groans and complains about _unnatural stamina_ and _perverted peepers_ and _stupid rugs_.

But he's smiling.

I love the little crack between us. It gets wider as I press myself into it, his heart opening for me, his smile blinding on a new day such as this one.

And I will wait…

…until all he can dream of is me.


End file.
